


Bloodied, Not Beaten

by greygerbil



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage - Realizing Their New Spouse/Marriage Isn’t As Terrible As They’d Assumed Going In, Competence - highly effective teamwork, High Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort - Loneliness, Kneeling, Multi, Protectiveness, Referenced pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23948077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: After her three older siblings have died in the war against the demons, Princess Svana is called back to a homeland she barely remembers and takes on a harem who, at best, are just meant to spy on her and at worst might actively undermine her. However, Svana is not ready to give up on the war or her marriages, even if the people of Sveland barely see her as one of their own.
Relationships: New Queen Grieving & Besieged/Her Badass Bisexual Harem, Original Female Character/Original Female Character/Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 24
Kudos: 84
Collections: Id Pro Quo 2020





	Bloodied, Not Beaten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MySocksDontMatchAndThatsOnPurpose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MySocksDontMatchAndThatsOnPurpose/gifts), [Ashling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/gifts).



Svana had not believed that she would come to Tasakh again as anything but a visitor, but less than that she had expected to be forced to enter her birthplace crawling through the old tunnels under the city behind a group of dark-clad Dust Walkers. These secretive figures, viewed with suspicion even by the other servants and warriors of the court, were the only ones who could make it into Tasakh now without having to break through the army of monsters crowding against the city walls. With the help of shadow spells and good old trickery, they led Svana right into the heart of the castle where she’d last been when she was three years old. The fourth-born child, she had been sent as hostage and ward to the court of Avergnon to seal a peace treaty; she returned as queen, twenty-eight ruler of the blood of Gunvald the Brightspear.

Several stern-faced warriors greeted her, no doubt high-ranking members of the court that Svana might eventually learn to match to the names of the people who had been frantically writing to her over the last weeks. When she opened her mouth to greet them, she found herself adding smooth turns and gentle flourishes to the hard language that was supposed to be her mother tongue, a thick accent obviously influenced by the language of Avergnon, and by their expressions she could tell that that did not go over too well. They had no choice, though. Svana, little as she felt like a woman of Sveland, was the last of the line, the only possible heir.

“Can you meet the Elders right away, Queen Svana?”

Overmuch politeness had always been considered subterfuge and dishonourable in Sveland, something Svana realised she’d have to get used to. The grey-haired woman who spoke to her obviously doubted she was strong enough to remain on her feet after the arduous travels and her blunt tone made no secret of it.

It didn’t help that Svana was already a short and thin-limbed woman who wouldn’t impose on anyone by virtue of her statue. When she’d raced from the court of Avergnon’s crown city Ruanne, there had been no time to collect clothes appropriate for her old home, either: cured leather, metal, furs. Even the maids and stable boys here wore pieces of armour and she was the only person she’d seen on her trek through the castle without trousers. Her flowing green dress that did its level best to force a curve into her straight build with a corselet tightly bound around her ribcage had brought compliments in Ruanne, but drew looks of confusion and consternation among the people who were now supposed to be her subjects.

“I’d like to see my sibling’s places of rest first, if it’s possible.”

The old woman hesitated, but finally nodded her head. Ancestor worship was still highly respected in Sveland, that much Svana knew even without having lived here.

“I will lead you there,” she said.

Svana was thankful. She was quite sure if she wouldn’t have found the hallway with the monuments of her forbearers herself.

“Are you Siglind, the castellan?” she asked with a bright smile, struggling to keep up with the old woman’s long strides.

Going by the vague idea she had of the court’s structure, this was her best guess. Siglind had written her a few letters herself, each short enough to fit on a single page.

Siglind nodded her head once. “Siglind of the blood of Teda Bog, yes.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I do assume I used to know you when I was younger, but I’m afraid my memories of that time are a little faint.”

Her attempts to start a conversation flitted off the dulled steel of Siglind’s armour like brittle arrowheads. She simply nodded her head again and sped up her steps.

Clearly, she would have to switch a few strategies if she wanted to win the hearts and minds of the people, Svana thought to herself.

The strategizing, however, would have to come later. Siglind took a sharp left in the tall, grey hallways and suddenly they stood in the gallery of the ancients. Statues lined the wall, the very first depicting Gunvald the Brightspear, still holding his eponymous weapon, worked expertly into a loop in his stone hand. Written in runes above the statue was the motto of her house: _With the Brightspear Falls the Land_.

They had never been a particularly modest sort, the people of her blood.

The statues continued in a line down to Queen Halva, Svana’s own mother, clutching in her hands a broadsword that was said to have felled hundreds of evildoers. If only she had still been alive when the Maw had opened again to pour horrors out onto the steppes of Sveland, perhaps so much tragedy could have been avoided.

Svana’s siblings had no statues yet. An axe and two swords stood at the end of the row held by cast-iron mounts instead. They had died too fast, one after the other: Queen Birsa last year, Queen Geira early this spring, and King Nori just weeks ago. No one had time to be working stone now, anyway, not when the demons were pounding at the gates of Tasakh.

Distantly, Svana wondered where their bodies were. They wouldn’t dare to carry corpses out to the burial mounds now. Likely as not, her siblings had been burned alongside their dead soldiers to keep sickness from spreading. The people of Sveland were pragmatic that way.

Well, it was the weapons that carried their souls, Svana reminded herself. The people of Avergnon placed a greater importance on dead flesh and though she had never converted to their beliefs, it was hard to pretend that twenty-six years at their court had not influenced her. Corpses meant less here.

Svana barely remembered her parents, but her siblings had come to visit her in her friendly exile sometimes. In the heavy axe she saw Birsa, still ruffling Svana’s hair whenever they met even as Svana was long a grown woman. The first sword, slim like a dagger, was Geira, who had looked so much like Svana they could have passed for twins, and though their temperaments could not have been more different, somehow they had never run out of things to talk about. Nori was a year older than Svana, but he’d always acted like her younger brother, a spirited, naive soul, not expecting the throne and having no desire for it, and just as he’d guessed in his last letter to her, it had crushed him just like their sisters.

She should have screamed or cursed, Svana knew. Her companions, Siglind and those other warriors she did not know, would have expected as much. However, she was too much the courtier now to do such things in front of others and her chest was entirely hollow, anyway, as she looked between what was left of her siblings. She might have summoned tears, but those were not viewed so kindly by the hard people of her homeland and the gods knew she’d already shed more than enough, anyway.

_Last of the blood, last of the line._

“Thank you for your patience,” Svana said and smiled. “I will see the elders now.”

-

Though letters could not truly convey the horror of Tasakh’s being entirely besieged, Svana had already known the situation was dire. Demons had always crawled out of the Cold Mountains, where the fabric to the Otherworld was thin, but over the last hundreds of years they had only ever caused skirmishes and been easily driven back by a line of strong warriors. It was why Tasakh had been built here and chosen as the seat of power, to protect the rest of the kingdom. The time when the Maw had last been open was already a matter of legends when Svana was born, though – but now it gaped again, spewing new demonic soldiers faster than they could kill them, and their own ranks were not so easily replenished.

The Maw, a fiery crag in the foothills of the mountains, had been tied to her family since before the bloodline had been something to boast of. It was her progenitor Gunvald’s father who had opened the damn thing in an attempt to win a minor battle against some other clan leader; and it was Gunvald who had shut it up behind magic stronger than anything known in this day and age. However, whatever wards he had placed on it half a millennium ago had finally weakened last year and as far as Svana could tell, the sorcerers of Sveland had not found anything that could replace them yet. In fact, as the Elders told her now when she sat with them in the great hall, their armies could barely press towards the Maw anymore these days.

Svana said little as the ten Elders told her of the kingdom that had fallen into her lap. It occurred to her immediately that there were few solutions being offered. Usually, when there was a chance to influence a ruler, people jumped to present their theories. However, all they could tell her was what her siblings had tried to execute and in which ways all had failed. Every direct assault, ever clever ambush, every desperate rush of bodies, all ended with blood in the dirt.

They had to fight on, that was all the Elders said. It wasn’t a plan, though, it was simply the philosophy of Sveland, the last resort of good men and women driven into a corner. It took Svana about half the meeting to understand that apparently the leading plan was to launch another attack in a few days’ time, die honourably on their feet if need be and hope that someone, somewhere struck a decisive blow through sheer tenacity and luck.

She wished she could have presented a better alternative. She could think of none.

When they had finished the dreary story of the war, the Elders announced to her that she would meet her harem now.

Svana had left the choice of the people she was to marry to the leaders of the Three Tribes, as a first gesture of diplomacy and because she knew no one at court and would have been choosing among strangers, anyway. Considering this, she had figured that they might as well be strangers who bought her the goodwill of the important factions. The separation of her people into the Three Tribes was a long-standing tradition in Sveland. The people of Sveland had, in the times before records, been two different people. One had come over the Shivering Waters, tall, pale wanderers with bright eyes and light hair. In their roaming, they had met the people of the mountains and steppes in what had later become Sveland, a shorter stock with black hair and dark eyes and bronze skin who preferred horses to boats. Some of the seafaring people, called then the Dragned, had settled at the empty, rocky coast and kept to themselves, whereas of the natives, some had remained in the south, far away from their new neighbours, and been known as the Checheg. Some of each group, however, had begun to live together in the central grasslands and at the eastern mountains, and those were the Batu, of which Svana’s family hailed also.

In truth, all tribes were now thoroughly mixed, but old customs lived long in these lands, especially when they gave power to local authorities like the leaders of the Three Tribes. They held the most prestigious positions in the council of Elders, who advised the rulers.

Svana had spent some time considering her approach to each tribe. Out of the three, the Checheg were likely going to have the least patience for her connection with Avergnon, whose realm bordered the lands their ancestors had lived on. Though peace had been between Avergnon and Sveland for the duration of almost thirty years now, as Svana’s presence at the court in Ruanne had assured, memories of wars faded slowly. All of Sveland had fought, but because of their position, the Checheg had always taken the brunt of the conflict. Of course, the people of Sveland generally respected warriors, but that did not mean they didn’t keep an eye on old enemies. Svana had a feeling by the way that Elder Mida Qara looked at her that he had not yet decided that Svana wasn’t one of them.

“Sataq Saylit is the man we have chosen,” Mida Qara said with a bow of his bald head. “He is a menace with a blade and he knows the arts of the Dust Walkers and he talks well, if too much.”

“Don’t hold back with your compliments, Mida.”

From a group in the back of the cavernous hall, a man stepped forward into the light of the torches. He was not much taller than Svana and about her age, maybe thirty years. His long, straight, dark hair was braided and his face clean-shaven, rare among men here, revealing his impish smile. As he approached her with swinging steps, he gave a sweeping bow while still in motion.

“My queen,” he said smoothly.

“My husband,” she answered, a twitch pulling at the corner of her mouth.

If nothing else, she was happy to see someone smile at her, even if he was faking it. She was evidently too used to such niceties to not miss them a little.

Mida Qara glanced at a woman shrivelled by age, sitting so bent and slack in her chair that Svana wondered if she was asleep. However, she reacted immediately to his wordless gesture. Svana remembered that the crone had introduced herself as Suba of the blood of Chigan, elder of the Batu tribe.

“The Batu have chosen Khedr of the blood of Olaf. He has served your siblings and your mother as a faithful warrior and lead our troops in battle since the beginning of the siege. Had you grown up here, you’d be well-acquainted with stories of his deeds.”

Khedr was perhaps a decade older than her, Svana guessed as he stepped forward, though his face was weather-beaten and half covered by burn scars, so it was admittedly hard to tell. Though he had the features and complexion of one of the steppe, he was tall and broad like the people of the coast. He wore a wolf’s pelt complete with the upper half of the head as his hood and knelt wordlessly before stepping in line next to Sataq by the side of her wooden throne.

Thorfinna of the blood of Unna was last in line. Young for an Elder, barely fifty, she stood sprightly from her wooden chair in the half-circle in which the Elders sat, facing Svana.

“The offering of the Dragned is Valka of the blood of Yngrid. Her spells are as powerful as the swing of her sword and she rides like the wind itself. She is first among the mages in the vanguard.”

The third to approach her was a tall woman with a cocky smile, broad in shoulders and hips and clad head to toe in leather armour, perhaps a couple of years younger than Svana. She bowed deeply before Svana and exchanged a greeting nod with Khedr before she moved next to him.

Ceremonies would come later, Svana had already agreed in her letters, as there was a war to focus on. With this, Svana was married.

-

Svana prided herself that despite all her faults, she was not a moron. Perhaps choosing a harem was generally considered a privilege to the ruler, but the Elders did not trust this strange woman who came out of enemy lands, jumbled their language, and was supposed to lead them into battle against a foe she had never seen in person before this day. Whether they feared that she was merely incompetent or actively looking to betray them to Avergnon in their moment of weakness was, for now, irrelevant. If she wanted to lead long-term, Svana would have to figure out how to gain their approval. The key to that would be her three spouses crowding around her now, who no doubt would report back to the Elders every chance they got.

Khedr led the way, as Svana did not know the castle well enough to even find her own bedroom. They walked in silence under the watchful eyes of guards.

The ruler’s chambers looked oddly empty but for the necessary furniture. Svana guessed it was because each of the last three rulers had died before they had been able to be really at home here. Immediately, she missed the colourful tapestries that had covered her walls back in Avergnon. In Sveland, the habit was to draw directly onto the stone in bright colours with a stark, broad brush. Instead of saints and beautiful landscapes, favourite subjects of the artists in Avergnon, the images were bloody affairs of gods and heroes slaying hideous monsters, which was supposed to keep those evil spirits out of the house. An especially gruesome snake-like serpent curled around the whole of her bedroom, menacing a warrior with shield and sword just over the head of the bed. A bear pelt complete with fangs and claws laid on the floor.

Well, interior design was a secondary concern, Svana decided. She turned to her entourage.

“I hope you will excuse me. For your pleasure and mine, I would like to take a bath before we proceed. I have travelled for the better part of the day.”

“There should be water in the washing room. I’ll get a servant to boil it,” Khedr offered.

“No need. I’ll do the honours,” Valka said, snapping her fingers to produce a shower of sparks before she waved at Svana to follow.

“Are we coming to the washing room, too? You’re not a one-woman harem, Valka,” Sataq joked.

“A bathtub is not a wedding bed! You men stay out!” Valka called, playfully slapping Sataq on the chest with enough force to send him stumbling back a couple of steps.

“If you think it could not be turned into one, you lack imagination,” Sataq gave back.

Valka barked a laugh. With her impressive size and wild, dark blonde hair, she reminded Svana of the lions she had seen in menageries.

“Out,” she reiterated, before ushering Svana through a door and slamming it shut behind them.

Svana looked around. The washing room was plain, with only the necessary utensils. In Avergnon, flowers in pots were placed around chambers like these and dried petals kept in painted bowls emitted a sweet smell, but all was simple wood and naked stone here.

 _You’re not in Ruanne now._ With a shake of her head, she glanced at the door.

“Do the three of you know each other, Lad... Valka?”

Reminding herself of the way her siblings had always mocked the nobles of Avergnon, who called their spouses and parents by their titles, Svana quickly corrected to using her new wife’s name with a winning smile.

“Plenty. We have all been retainers at the castle for years. Khedr has been here the longest, but he’s also the oldest. Sataq dips in and out – gods know what these Dust Walkers are doing half the time. Can’t argue with his results, though.”

While she spoke, Valka leaned down to a wooden bathtub standing in front of the back wall, which had been filled with water in preparation for Svana’s arrival, and stuck her hand in. The water bubbled and began emitting steam. Valka shook droplets of her hand.

“Impressive,” Svana noted.

Though Svana had as much magical talent as your average horse, she had often heard it was actually easier for most mages to channel greater amounts of arcane energy. Most who used it to fight often only learned to control it so far that it ended up on the right side of the battlefield. A concentrated, small effort such as this needed finesse one would not have expected at first glance from a boisterous woman like Valka.

“Always,” Valka said with a grin. “Need help with that dress? I’ve been meaning to ask that since you sat down in the throne. How do you breathe in that thing?”

“Practice,” Svana said easily as she turned her back to Valka. “I’d be grateful if you unlaced it, though. The straps are hard to reach.”

Her tone purposefully teetered on the edge of betraying that she could have done it herself had she chosen to, but preferred Valka’ help. She doubted that any of the three would be wrapped easily around her finger and follow her just for love or lust alone, but it could not hurt to try to win them over. Besides, she found the thought of sleeping with them more relaxing than anything else that had happened in the last four weeks of her life. She would still have to make sure to present herself well, of course, but it was only one task to focus on instead of one hundred.

Valka fiddled with the laces for a moment, muttering something inaudible but no doubt coarse under her breath, before she had finally bested the knot. Svana felt the pressure on her ribs ease.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Sure, anytime,” Valka answered, bemused, as her finger brushed between Svana’s shoulder blades before she let go. “I’ll let you take your bath. See you in a bit.”

As Svana turned, she saw Valka take one more look at her, not even trying to hide how her eyes dipped down to Svana’s chest, before she strutted out of the door. Svana folded up her dress and placed it on a small stool by the side of the bathtub alongside her pantaloons as well as the mismatched boots she had worn instead of her usual stitched fabric shoes, which might not have survived the journey. They’d be useless here, of course, she had already realised. Her best bet would be to go through Geira’s belongings and piece an outfit together from them. It would pain her to give up her jewellery and silks, but Svana had always employed such trappings first and foremost to look good to the people around her and the fashion was simply different here.

She climbed into the warm water and let her head drop back, but only allowed herself to let her eyes drift shut for a moment. Better not to stay in here too long. She’d been on her feet for twenty hours, so if she gave in to the whispered promise of the hot water, she would just fall asleep. Reaching over the edge of the tub, she grabbed the bar of wood ash soap that laid next to it, coarser than the olive oil soap she was used to, but serving the same purpose.

After scrubbing her skin pink, she grabbed the rough-spun cloth also laid ready and wrapped it around her shoulders. There was no mirror in here to check, but she saw a polished piece of metal for the same purpose in which she caught her reflection. Braids and long hair were the fashion in Sveland for men and women alike, so she would have to grow her hair out, which was cut just a few inches short in the fashion of Avergnon. She quite liked this style, as she tended to think it brought out her best features, the prominent, round cheekbones and small, heart-shaped lips. Then again, the straight, obsidian black hair that was a gift from her ancestors in the steppes contrasted nicely against the pale green of her eyes that the coastal part of her family had passed down, so perhaps wearing it long would present a chance to play with that.

Before she turned towards the door, she slid the cloth down her shoulders like a cape for effect. She had little too offer in terms of bust or backside, tending towards a sinewy, athletic build, but her lovers had never minded. Of course, in the past, they had chosen her, whereas these people here had probably been commanded to do this or had thrown their names in the ring for the potential prestige and power gain. At best, they had taken the position without having a chance to figure out what she looked like.

Still, looks were one thing. Behaviour, she’d found, was the best way to snare a lover. She lifted her chin and swept out of the washing room.

Her spouses sat on the side of the bed like birds on a branch, which forced Svana to hide a smile. They had taken off their boots and the bulkier parts of their armour already. Khedr looked surprised and Sataq amused with her practical decision to abandon her clothing in the washing room. Valka was just staring hungrily.

It was Sataq who spoke first: “So, I hear the people of Avergnon are very protective of their innocence. Is there something we should know, Svana?”

“You are right. Virginity is a highly sought good and given only in rare circumstances. I’m a passable actress, so I think I lost mine four times, each to very honoured lovers,” Svana answered, raising a brow.

Valka burst out laughing. Khedr frowned.

“You really learned to play the games of the court. Should one turn their back on you, I wonder?”

“Come now, Khedr. I don’t see the problem with a lie that only made people feel better about themselves,” Sataq answered, grinning. “No harm, no foul, isn’t that right?”

“Of course _you_ would say that, Dust Walker.”

Svana catalogued their reactions: Valka’s enjoyment, Khedr’s proud bristling at the deception, the note of admiration for her ruse in Sataq’s voice.

“I haven’t lived in this kingdom for a while, but if I remember correctly, I won’t have to pretend here.” In Sveland, going into marriage deflowered was not really an issue. In fact, if a woman had born a child or a man fathered one, it was considered ultimate proof of their fertility, which was in the most direct way sensible, after all. In any case, it would make this much easier. Few could successfully pretend to be both skilled and inexperienced at the same task at once, after all. “Are there any of you who’d like to sit and watch rather than come to bed?”

This being an hour after they had met her, she wouldn’t drag anyone between the sheets, but predictably all three shook their heads. Svana had expected little else. Pride meant a lot in these lands and in any case, none would give the other two the advantage by pulling themselves out of the race. They still each stood for their own tribe, after all. Hopefully, they also actually did not mind being here.

“Then let us get started,” she said with spirit. There was probably no way for this not to be a little awkward, but she would push through that. “It has been a long day and I cannot promise not to fall asleep on you if you make me wait too long.”

As she spoke, she hung the cloth over the back of a wooden chair with a wicker seat and walked towards the bed, sitting down behind them. She smelled fresh straw under the washed linen.

Khedr was the first to turn more than his head. He looked unsure for a moment, but then sat his hand down on Svana’s knee. Was he frowning? With the way the skin of the damaged half of his face was twisted into a permanent scowl, it was hard to tell.

At least Valka’s expression was easy to read with that bright grin still on her face. She moved up to face Svana and pulled her own tunic over her head. Though her ample bosom, muscular stomach and strong arms were liable to distract anyone with a spark of life inside them, Svana could not but notice the deep furrows in her skin, most of them serrated, mirrored slashes, the kind claws would leave. Svana wondered if she used to patrol the mountain ridges, where wild Longtooths and Greypelts made the sparse forest dangerous, or if there were other animals a fighter might face that Svana had already forgotten or never learned about. There were a few less ferocious marks on her stomach, too, pale white and silver, but Svana had no time to contemplate them when she reached out for her, offering Valka her hand, and Valka immediately dragged Svana’s arm against her chest and yanked her close to kiss her.

She was a good kisser, though the fact that she pushed Svana into the sheets gave Svana a little less room to manoeuvre. She stretched out her foot, meeting what she suspected to be Khedr’s side, naked now as well. Apparently, he had matched Valka’s play immediately. As her skin slid over his, she felt the smooth, ridged surface of more burn scars. It had to have been a blazing fire he had walked through, or perhaps an attack by enemy elemental mages. A calloused hand grasped her thigh, but her ankle was caressed by quick fingers with softer skin.

“You have two here who always clamour to be the first in a scuffle,” Sataq explained. “That will be something to deal with.”

“Those who stay behind miss their chance,” Valka answered, lifting her mouth briefly of Svana’s.

“Trust me, I know how to get my way,” Sataq said playfully as he lifted Svana’s leg so that her knee was hooked over Khedr’s muscular shoulder. Svana drew Valka close again for a quick repeat of that passionate kiss, eagerly nipping her lips as Valka’s long hair tickled her face, before she turned her attention to the man now sitting between her legs, eyes roaming over her even as he looked a little uncertain of his place in the tangle of bodies.

“Khedr, you have managed to find yourself in the perfect spot, don’t you think?” Svana coaxed gently, looking past Valka’s shoulder at him. He was, in truth, quite the impressive sight, his looks, much like Valka’s, only enhanced by the scars he wore. He had a broad barrel chest and thick muscles more reminiscent of a hardworking smith than a handsome tourney knight, but there was something exciting about being caught between two strong warriors with a third moving behind her, where she could only hear, not see him.

She shifted her hips as Khedr slipped his hands up her thighs, his thumbs landing in the soft dark curls between her legs as Valka roughly cupped Svana’s breast, which was easily covered by her broad hand. Just as Svana leaned down to her shoulder, Sataq suddenly came into her field of vision from a completely different direction than Svana had expected him from, placing one hand on Valka’s back and the other on Svana’s arm. He was completely rid of his clothes, the lack of them enhancing the languid, feline grace of his movements. His sun-kissed skin was covered in the swirling dark tattoos of the Dust Walkers.

“Mind if I drop in?” he asked with an impertinent smile.

Svana opened mouth to answer, but Khedr had chosen that moment to thumb over her clit and together with Valka’s efforts, she was briefly silenced by a quiet gasp forcing itself up her throat.

“If you make yourself useful,” Valka answered, glancing at Svana. “What does the queen say?”

“You are free to find something to do,” Svana said somewhat breathlessly.

“Among both of you?”

“As you wish.”

Valka’s children would not be in line for the throne, historically could not even be legitimised from their bastard status by the ruler, who was otherwise free to make any baseborn child legitimate. However, they would be considered shield brothers and sisters, personal guards and tight friends to their royal siblings. The aunt who had accompanied her own sisters and brother on their travels to see Svana when they had been younger had been such a child. She was ten years dead after a battlefield injury now, though.

Svana shook off the thought. This was not the night to consider how they would distribute pregnancies between them, and she did not need to have her dead family on her mind if she planned to perform, and enjoy herself at that.

Instead of crowding around Svana as well, Sataq moved behind Valka, who seemed content enough with the arrangement. Svana watched with fascination as he kissed down her spine before her gaze flickered back to Khedr, who looked adorably focused. She caressed him with her foot, the only part of her that could reach, tracing his thick thigh folded under him, then the burned skin of his side, which got her a pleased growl. With her hands, she reached for Svana and Sataq, brushing her side, grasping his arm, squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts and then burying a hand in Sataq’s hair to unravel his braid. She laid twisted at the hip to reach them both without disturbing Khedr’s work between her legs. Focused as she was on the logistics, on not ignoring any partner and making them feel lesser, she only realised how wet she already was when Khedr slid a thick finger inside her and pressed her clit with the pad of his thumb. He looked satisfied with himself when she twitched and struggled for air. She had expected him to be the type to be more straightforward, but it seemed he was not entirely adverse to roundabout strategies such as teasing. She noticed that while Valka was entirely focused on Sataq and her, Sataq also let his gaze dart towards Khedr. They’d all known each other, Valka had said, but perhaps not in such a way, and Sataq seemed to be interested in taking it all in.

 _He’s like me,_ Svana thought to herself. _He’s the most dangerous of them._

But for now he was only collecting impressions, too, she was relatively certain, so she let her focus waver and fall back to the moment at hand. Though she relished the attention, the position was impractical. She gave Valka a gentle push to get her off, nodding her head towards Khedr.

“Would you mind if I turned around, Khedr?” she asked him. “I suppose you can’t really see my face, anyway, with these two piling on top.”

“As you wish,” Khedr said. There was a rough rumble to his voice. Though Svana didn’t have much to give him from this position, it seemed he was enjoying himself as well.

Svana sat up, disentangling herself from Sataq’s and Valka’s arms, and kissed Khedr, reaching down to stroke his hard cock. He grasped her by the hips and Svana figured if they had been standing, he would have lifted her off her feet. His lust was contained, but only just so, muscles straining with barely restrained power. She allowed him to do as he wished for a moment before she turned in his arms.

“I can hold you up,” Khedr said behind her, “so you can keep an eye on these two. I’d say you wouldn’t want to let a Dusk Walker out of your sight, but Valka knows how to cause chaos, too.”

“A good idea,” Svana decided.

“I hit you with a spell _one time_ ,” Valka exclaimed, grinning as she rolled her eyes. “It just brushed you, anyway! You’ll never let me hear the end of it, old man.” Shaking her wild head of hair, she turned to Sataq. “So, what about you? Because I’m taking the front.”

“Of course you will,” Sataq said, smiling, chin leaning on Valka’s shoulder. “I think I shall make myself useful, as you put it.”

Valka raised a brow at Svana, but Sataq did not let them wait for his meaning. He placed another kiss on Valka’s neck before he laid flat on his back, positioning himself, directing Valka to spread her thighs so that he only had to lift his head to get his mouth between her legs.

“Oh, I can live with that,” Valka said, after a moment of theatrical contemplation, before she grabbed Svana’s head and kissed her again, her hands dropping to join, interlace with Khedr’s on Svana’s hips. Khedr made a vague sound of surprise, but did not pull his hands away. As Svana still enjoyed the feeling of their hands on her, Khedr’s cock pressed against her entrance. She’d noted as she touched it that it matched his tall height and broad size, but that became much more obvious as he pushed into her. She tightened her arms around Svana’s shoulders, gaining purchase, and ground down against Khedr in the same motion. He sputtered, almost losing his grip for a second, and Valka, who was quick to catch Svana before she could fall forward, snickered into Svana’s mouth, sliding her hands up to her back to hug her closer.

The heat of three bodies all around her, four hands, two mouth on her skin, Valka’s beautiful form under her roaming hands, Khedr’s cock pumping inside her, Svana could feel her peak approaching quickly. She buried her hands in Valka’s hair as she came and stifled a noise against her scarred shoulder. From the soft but insistent movement of Valka’s body, the unbridled sounds she was making, Svana could guess that Sataq was doing a passable job. She helped him along, dipping her head down to Svana’s neck, kissing it as her hand roamed over her shapely backside. Meanwhile, though it sent a series of crackling aftershocks through her body that bordered on too much, too soon, she tightened her muscles as much as she could, keeping Khedr’s manhood in a tight hold. He came with a stifled gasp inside her.

Svana allowed herself a moment to enjoy the scandalous feeling of his seed dripping between her legs before she gently eased herself off him, using Svana’s shoulders as leverage once more. She gave her another kiss on the collarbone before she moved around her and down Sataq’s body. His cock was of more average size than Khedr’s, but it had a nice curve and stood proudly. She tapped it with her fingers like a playful warning before she lowered her mouth over it.

It seemed that listening to the shameless moans Valka produced over his efforts or the excellent view Sataq got stuck between her legs – which Svana did plan to enjoy herself soon enough – had done something for Sataq, since his cock was already rock hard and he could just manage to keep his hips from thrusting up into Svana’s mouth. She went fast and hard from the start, cupping his balls with her hand, sucking him deep into her mouth. His fingers carded gently through her short hair. It pleased her to hear a muffled noise as she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, and when she tasted salt on her tongue, she did not let up until he had spent himself entirely in her mouth.

When Svana lifted her head, she saw that Valka had climbed off of Sataq and Khedr sat at the edge of the bed, having already pulled his pants back up. He quickly averted his eyes, making it too obvious he had been watching. Valka sat on her haunches, catching her breath, and even Sataq had closed his eyes, for a moment ceasing his observations. As the silence stretched, however, and the sweat on their skin grew cold, the atmosphere shifted from pleasant silence to something a little more stiff.

Svana clapped her hands. They all looked up, startled.

“Well!” she proclaimed. “That was an interesting wedding night. I always figured I would have some polite Avergnonian lord in my bed. I figure it might not have been quite so – exhilarating.”

“That’s a word for that,” Valka said, wiping sweat-stained strands out of her forehead as she got to her feet and looked for her clothes, which she’d carelessly tossed on the ground. “Happy to serve, my queen.”

“I think we will turn in for the night. There’ll be a long day ahead tomorrow. They all are now,” Khedr said, pushing into his boots.

Svana nodded her head. Royal spouses slept in separate beds simply because having four people and more in one could be uncomfortable. Of course, they were not always all sent away, from what Svana remembered, and just who was allowed to stay behind and who had to leave could cause unending strife, if the many tales that had sprouted from old gossip were to be believed. A wise ruler would send all of their husbands and wives away or keep them all around despite the cramped spaces, but she was too tired to arrange the latter. Tonight, she simply wanted to make use of her exhaustion and get a good night’s sleep. She doubted she would have the pleasure much more often anytime soon.

Valka didn’t bother to put on anything but her tunic and trousers, gathering the rest of her things up in her arms. She grinned at Svana again, allowing Svana to notice a broken tooth in the firelight that left her looking almost like she had a fang. Khedr bowed his head before he followed Valka out of the door. He’d strapped on every last piece of his armour, making Svana wonder where he planned to go from here in the middle of the night, or if he simply never took the chance of being seen without his armour by anyone he could meet in the hallway. Only Sataq lingered on the threshold, sorting through the dark, tousled strands of hair that Svana had pulled out of his braid.

“I must complain of one injustice: you haven’t kissed me yet,” he said with a smirk.

Svana smiled.

“Would you like me to wash my mouth first?” she asked archly.

“Oh, I am not so picky.”

He leaned down to place a kiss on her mouth that proved he did not mind tasting himself there.

“Good night,” he said, before he closed the door behind himself.

Svana wandered back to her bed and sat down on the side of it. After the crowd that it had just held, it suddenly seemed wide and empty. All her siblings had slept here, one after the other, before they were mowed down, one after the other. Would it be hubris to think that she would spend more than a few weeks here before her time came?

 _No point in wondering now_ , she thought, stretching out on the sheets. Perhaps those three she had just had in here would be of some assistance to her if she managed to keep them pleased. They certainly knew how to distract her for an hour, but she was going to need a lot more help than that.

-

“We can’t just sit here waiting to be overrun! We must attack again.”

Elder Thorfinna threw herself back into her chair with so much force she almost toppled it, her brows drawn into a thunderous frown as she glared at Svana. Surreptitiously, Svana pulled at the fur sleeve she wore. Her sisters clothes sat heavy on her shoulders, the leather armour uncomfortably tight, the furs too lose, but considering what she had come to propose to the Elders, she could hardly prance around in a flowing dress. She’d known that she would already offend them plenty.

“The Elders are right,” Valka said, glancing over her shoulder at Svana. Alongside Khedr and Sataq, she was seated on the stairs leading up to the dais on which the throne stood. Svana had already wondered if at some point she would be able to challenge habits so that they could at least have chairs, since for the time being they were sitting on the stone at her feet as per tradition, which seemed a little degrading. “There’s no point in hemming and hawing. We’re already held at spearpoint. We must smash through!”

“I agree,” Khedr said. “We don’t lie on our backs waiting to die. It is not the way.”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting!” Svana called, raising her voice over the angry murmur in the hall, coming from the Elders and the crowd of warriors and nobles in the back.

Her last two days had been spent in the study reading reports of all the failed attacks from sunrise to midnight. She had also walked the walls of the city, watching the demon hordes teeming beneath. They did not lay siege like humans and though they had some form of communication, she was rather certain they did not even speak. Their shapes were multitude. They had claws, fangs, hooves, horns, smooth red skin or shaggy fur, and came in every shape from man to beast. Instead of working machinery, they smashed themselves endlessly against the walls, reinforced by a constant stream out of the Maw. Good archers could easily pick them off, but the blood-smeared, scorched stones were taking a toll from the continuous attack. Eventually, they would break through. At the same time, the people in the city and the castle grew ever-more panicked. Svana knew they would not admit to fear, but she could see it all the same, even in her advisors, and she did not begrudge them this. After all, they had been in this situation for a year. Sense and hope were running thin. There was something terribly disconcerting about fighting a war against an enemy who could not at all be cajoled in the way humans might be, with no care from the individual or the group for the lives they lost. How could mere humans win against something that had no conscience and no self-preservation instinct? Even the bravery of the people of Sveland did not reach this far into the territory of blind madness, though currently they seemed to be trying their very best to match their enemy on this point.

When the noise had quieted somewhat, Svana stood from her throne, that massive wooden thing painted in bright colours and carved with sharp antlers at the top that dwarfed her whenever she sat in it.

“Obviously, the war must go on,” she said. “What have we accomplished with our attacks so far, though? I have spoken to the warriors – we have already lost almost half of our fighting forces. If it didn’t work when we had all of them, what has changed now? No one here seems to be able to tell me why launching this attack you had planned tomorrow should go any different.”

“Then what do you want to do?” Suba of the Batu tribe called, her voice raising loud and steady for her old age.

Svana hesitated. Here was the problem: she still had no idea yet. All she knew so far was that following the Elder’s advice would probably give her nothing but more corpses to burn and, in the worst case, leave her without enough of an army to execute any plan. “We must hesitate a moment to strategise,” she said. “In the meantime, I want the warriors to stay put inside the city and only defend the walls.”

Again, clamour broke out in the hall. Svana straightened her back and did not answer to the shouts.

To her surprise, Sataq rose to his feet.

“Everybody!” he shouted, with his amiable smile. “Let me add something. We have worked through two queens and one king with plans like our current one and have, in fact, ran out of candidates who carry the blood of the Brightspear. We might not all agree that ‘with the Brightspear falls the land’, but are you willing to bet on that? If we lose this queem, let’s not pretend there will not be strife among us trying to decide our new leaders and that would be perilous in a moment like this. Perhaps, before we dash more lives against the demon hordes, royal or otherwise, we all step back and try to think of strategies we may have started to neglect while we followed our passion for the fight.”

Though Sataq, as Svana could tell from his bickering with Khedr, was probably also a bit of an outlier among his own people, the fact that he had been chosen for her harem meant that he must still have sway. The quiet that followed his words supported this. Svana felt her heart lighten to hear that she had him on her side.

“I suppose we have lost a lot of good men and women. I might be able to assign new troop leaders,” Khedr said, to her surprise. He was blatantly not happy, but Svana could read in the lines on his face, the exhaustion in his voice, that the deaths of his people had taken a toll on him. Another problem the demons did not have to deal with.

Valka held back, but as she saw eyes turning to her, people now apparently expecting every spouse to weigh in, she sighed, shoulders sinking.

“In truth, I have only half a dozen mages left in the vanguard,” she said, uncertainly. “We lost most of our own at the Icey Ridges with King Nori last month. I guess we would not be able to join the fray with who is left, anyway. I must have reinforcements from the backline.”

“Then I say we take a week to regroup,” Svana said, seizing her chance. “In that time, I will be glad to hear all your ideas for the next attack.”

Svana decided to leave the announcements at that, since she had drawn enough ire on herself. As she stepped out into the hallway by herself, she could feel cold sweat running down her back and dampening her palms. Thanks to the intervention of Sataq and the rest of the harem, it had worked out better than expected, but she knew that having passed the first hill did not mean she had made it over the mountain range.

“Svana.”

Svana stopped. Sataq had somehow followed her though she’d heard only her own steps in the dark hallway.

“Sataq, I hadn’t noticed you. Thank you for your intervention. I think you may have saved me from being dethroned with an axe,” she said with a pale smile.

Sataq grinned. “We are not quite that barbaric here – it would have been a clean spear throw instead. Less painful. Besides, I had my own reasons to help you.” He looked stern for a moment, more than she had seen out of him so far. “In truth, I think we’ve been heading down the wrong path for a while, as our disastrous results show plainly. Not to insult your siblings, but only your oldest sister had a head for the bigger picture on the battlefield, which is why she survived so much longer than the other two. Especially your brother was not gifted in that regard. He was a great warrior, but that doesn’t always translate to talent at the war table.”

It hurt to hear Nori spoken off like this, but Svana nodded her head.

“I suspected as much. I think even he knew. I just wish he would have been sensible enough to hand the reins to somebody else.”

“Perhaps it would have saved him,” Sataq said. “But who can say? None of us have won the war yet.”

The hallway opened onto balconies overseeing the courtyard, which was stacked like an old lumber-room with broken trebuchets, armour and weapons collected from dead bodies, and balls of hay for the horses which really should have been inside to be protected from the rain, but were stacked here for lack of space as warriors crowded the castle.

“I suspect you have your own ideas how to do that?” she asked him.

“Do you not trust me to have acted out of my interest for you alone?”

Svana chuckled. “I trust you as much as you trust me, Sataq.”

The man joined in her quiet laugh. They were both a little too sly, she suspected. Still, they did not have to be enemies.

“You suspect correctly. The Dust Walkers do important work, smuggling food and equipment in and out of the city, but we used to be warriors, too. Your mother was already distrustful of us, which weakened our position among the troops. Then Queen Birsa never had a chance to figure out what to do with us, Queen Geira ignored us, and King Nori plain didn’t like us, which left us as mere support. I say we should be brought back onto the battlefield.”

Svana nodded her head. “I will keep that in mind. Some of you will have to be set aside so that this city can be evacuated if all our efforts fail and I die myself, though.”

“Yes. It would be wise to take precautions for that,” Sataq said.

It was the first time she had seen something like fear flicker in his dark eyes, but he hid it away quickly enough.

-

The week of time she had bought herself was not nearly enough, in truth, but Svana decided to take a chunk of a few hours out of it to inspect the castle. It could well be that eventually the demons would break through the city walls and she would have to pull back here for the siege. Civilians had mostly been brought out of the city by the Dust Walkers already, but the castle would still have to house the troops. It was not big enough for that at present, but a cynical voice told her that if the city was overrun, there wouldn’t be nearly as many warriors left, anyway.

Castle Brightspear was the handiwork of her ancestor Gunvald’s children. It had towers that came to a sharp point to match their father’s name and several inner courtyards. The hallways were all painted and ran like a labyrinth. Aside from the great assembly hall, nearly all of the ground floor was hollowed out to be used as stables. On top of that sat quarters for the harem, the council of Elders, and the royal family, the latter now deserted. Unlike in Avergnon, there was no separate housing or wing for courtiers, which were not nearly so common here. Only people who had a job at the castle also lived there and her current council sessions had so many visitors just because every warrior of import was currently crammed inside the city to defend it. They slept mostly in the empty houses in the city of Tasakh, which had been left behind by families brought outside the walls for their own safety.

She just finished up her tour by walking the battlements when she found Valka leaning on the merlons, looking out over the city roofs and the countryside in the distance, where the demons moved like ants, restlessly following their secret devices. She looked up when she saw Svana approach.

“Taking a break from the study?” she asked.

There was a conciliatory note to her voice. Svana decided to go with it and not point out that they could be quarrelling over Valka’s resistance in the throne room. She had bent the knee in the end, after all.

“So to speak. I don’t remember the castle at all,” Svana said. “I figured if we may have to defend it, I shouldn’t get lost trying to get to my troops.”

Valka snorted. “We won’t have to defend the castle,” she said, but it sounded more stubborn than certain.

“Yes, that’s the plan,” Svana answered.

They stood in silence for a moment. Pulling her attention from the matter of the siege, Svana decided that she might not get Valka on her own like anymore for a while. Perhaps it was the time to bring up something else that had been running through her mind.

“Is your child still within the city?”

Valka stood up straight, blue eyes wide, and then tried for a grin. “So someone already ratted me out, huh?”

Svana smiled and shook her head. It had been a guess, but she’d seen enough of Valka now to know that she would easily step into the trap her question had been. It did confuse her that she looked guilty, though. People here did not care about a bastard or two.

“No. I just noticed the marks on your stomach when we slept together. There are other ways to come by them, of course, but the placement looked quite distinctive.”

In the heat of the moment, she had not given the faded stretch marks much thought, but as the days passed on and the image had come back to her mind, she had considered it more carefully.

“He’s with my family at our seaside hall. Don’t know where the father is – wasn’t the type to stay around, not that I needed him to.” Valka halted, looking sheepish. “My son is the heir to our bloodline. Your queen mother legitimised him years ago.”

That was the reason Svana hadn’t been told, then. It was a clever workaround, to be sure. Any children Valka would have for the rest of her life could not be anything but bastards to protect the royal line from usurpers in their own house. However, a child born before the marriage, before there was any talk of Valka ever becoming a member of the royal harem, may well have been legitimised to carry on her bloodline. Still, this was not done. It meant Svana now had a wife who had a child who would hold political sway of his own once he grew up, as well as have proximity to the royal family by way of his mother, which was an explosive combination when making a grab for the throne.

Valka groaned. Apparently, she’d read Svana’s silence right. “I hate this,” she said decisively. “I told them from the start I’d rather be honest and let you choose if you’d still take me with the kid. Damned Thorfinna talked me into it, that shrewd old witch!”

It amused Svana a little how plainly uncomfortable Valka was with this bit of courtly intrigue. To her, this felt almost like home. It was good to know that politics were a concern to the powerful people of every country – not, perhaps, because it made them likeable, but because it gave her something to work with.

“I don’t know that much about the customs here, but I think that the other two tribes have allowed this speaks for the reputation of you and your family,” she said slowly. “I doubt they have an interest in empowering the Dragned for a takeover of the throne. You seem to be considered loyalists.”

“We are! I’ve no mind to topple any of your kids and I’ll be teaching my son that lesson,” Valka said with conviction. “I’ll be raising the princesses and princes, too, after all. It’d be like pitting two of my own against each other.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to teach your son any lesson if he were here, though? Not now, of course, but providing we survive all of this,” Svana asked.

“You’d allow that?” Valka asked, puzzled. “He used to live here, but they told me he’d probably have to stay at my family’s hall so he won’t grow up with so much connection to the court. My parents are good people, so it’d be fine. I could visit him. Of course, I’d rather have the brat around, though. You never know what trouble kids get into,” she added fondly.

Would it be such a problem, Svana wondered. In the end, it would be better if the boy liked her family instead of feeling like it had stolen his mother and chased him away from his home. An image of a dejected child walking a beach on his own came into her head unbidden, though it looked more like the fine sand of Avergnon than the grey pebbles of the Sveland shore.

“I’d be happy for you to raise him here. He is with family, but for small children, it’s lonely without their parents sometimes, so far away from home.”

Svana stopped herself as she saw Valka’s interested gaze. Apparently, a little too much feeling had snuck into her voice.

“What’s his name?” she asked with a smile, before Valka could prod her.

“Myndill. He’s five summers and already a good rider and decent with a wooden sword. He’ll be able to teach our kids a few things, watch over them. You’ll see, it’ll be good!”

“I believe that, yes,” Svana said with a nod.

Now if only she could make it happen. Her gaze swerved outside the city walls again.

-

“Thank you for agreeing to this. I wasn’t sure you’d talk to me again after what happened in the throne room. Valka has an easy temper, but you seem a bit more – severe.”

“Severe?” Khedr snorted. “I’ll take it. People have called me worse than that.”

He handed her the reins to a palomino mare with shaggy fur and dark eyes. Svana pulled herself up onto her back, sitting uneasily in the saddle she wasn’t used to, a narrow wooden construct with a high back and front. She slid her feet into the stirrups, which were metal, not leather loops like she was used to from Avergnon. Despite her discomfort, there was no question, however, that this saddle gave her a much more secure seat than she was used to.

“Sit with your back straight,” Khedr advised, walking around the horse to adjust the stirrups to sit a little higher so she could reach more easily. “These are sturdy. Try to stand in them.”

Svana did as he asked and was surprised how well they held up as she did. Though her own unsteady posture made her wobble a little, a better rider could surely make great use of them. She knew this, of course, but it had all been in books she had read about her own people or stories told to her by her siblings. The last time she had sat in a saddle like this, she had been too young to remember and likely not tall enough to reach any stirrups with her legs.

“I think I won’t fall off,” she said. “Shall we go?”

One of Tasakh’s landmarks was a large hill, almost a cliff, that stood in the middle of the city. It overlooked the countryside around it much further than even the battlements of the castle – in fact, people told her one could see to the Maw. It was the only way she would get a closer look at it for now, Svana figured, and why not take the general of the troops? Especially when she had vested interest to get him to talk to her in more than single-syllable words again.

They rode side by side without speaking, however, and Svana waited until they had reached the first temple at the bottom of the cliff to make her attempt to crack the ice.

“All the places of worship in the city are here, aren’t they?”

“Yes, to be closer to the heavens, where the gods live,” Khedr said with veneration. “Of course, these days the high priests and temple servants look at the open Maw, which I assume is only going to make them pray to Fellger.”

Svana touched her shoulder like she was brushing off dust, just as Khedr did the same. He gave her a perplexed but pleased look.

“I haven’t forgotten everything in Avergnon,” Svana said, smiling briefly.

Though had she not heard from others that Khedr was a pious man, she might not have been quite so superstitious to wipe off the bad omen that saying the death god’s name was said to place on people who were too careless to perform the protective gesture. Maybe it was a good thing, anyway. Around these parts, one would not want to be marked for death.

“I can see that. Your siblings visited you?” he asked with suppressed curiosity.

“Yes. I always looked forward to it. As a child, I thought they would take me back someday, but relations between our countries were never so lax that Avergnon wanted to give me up without good reason, especially not under the old king.” She halted. “I wonder often if he would have let me go. Certainly not without first marrying me to one of his children and making me swear on every god and goddess not take another bride or groom. Their rulers have only one spouse,” she explained. “Thankfully, his son, who took over after his death a couple of years ago, is much milder. He was very moved by the tragic story of my family and when it was clear the realm needed me, he defied his advisors and arranged for my journey.”

“Not wise, perhaps, but honourable,” Khedr said thoughtfully. “I was afraid we would have to fear Avergnon attacking in the south.”

“No, King Laurent would not do that. He’s mainly concerned with the prosperity of his own people and we all but grew up together, after all. He was a few years younger than me and always hiding behind my skirts.” She smiled at the memory. “His father – well, you may have been right if it were him.”

“It seems that was a stroke of good luck, or a result of your talents at court. King Laurent may not have been so kind to a woman less skilled with people.”

“I cannot tell if you’re complimenting or insulting me,” Svana pointed out.

Khedr raised his brows.

“I find you intriguing,” he settled. “I might not agree with your decisions, but I admit I expected you to cower before the Elders. A spine is rarely a deficit, though hard-headedness killed Queen Geira and King Nori. They never knew when to back down.”

“I guess the real talent is to know balance – to understand when to hold one’s ground and when to yield,” Svana said, pointing at the painted statues of the nine world guardians that stood under an awning before the temple up ahead the way: three women, three men, and three of indeterminate gender, all decked out in armour, as they were always presented, strong in their perfect balance. The guardians were revered by warriors and she had a feeling had she looked in Khedr’s room, she’d have found the nine of them lined up there, too, as small wooden idols next to the bed or on a table.

“Yes,” Khedr said gravely, smiling for just a moment. The scars that covered his face left the expression looking lopsided but honest.

Past the guardians they reached the top, where a large stone temple stood, surrounded by statues carved into obelisks. From here, the world stretched in all directions.

Svana directed her gaze to the mountains. The Maw laid up ahead in the foothills, just as she had seen on maps. It was a gap in rocky ground just at the edge of a forest. From here, she could see the demons crawling out of it, small and red in the distance, like blood flowing out of a black wound in the land.

“This is nightmarish,” she said, after a long moment.

“Yes,” Khedr muttered.

“They said the mages tried to seal it. Why did it not work? Our people know sealing spells.”

“I’m no sorcerer, but from what they say, they’d need a day at least to set up around the Maw to even put a temporary seal on it. We don’t have that kind of time. The demons don’t think much, but they protect it when we get close. We’ve managed once under Queen Birsa. Valka lost most of her best mages that day, and I dozens of warriors trying to protect them.” Khedr shifted in the saddle, restlessly running patting his dark stallion’s neck. “I hate to say so, but you and Sataq are right: we have no plan.”

“And the old spell is lost for sure?”

“Longer than even our great-grandfathers have been alive. Whatever Gunvald did, in the two-hundred years between that and when your family returned here to found Tasakh, they forgot. Of course, this is on all of us. We trusted too long in old tales. We should have found a way to reinforce the seal. It’s never good to rely on something you don’t understand.”

Svana nodded her head and averted her gaze, looking to the temple instead. If she stared at the Maw much longer, she had a feeling the same desperation that ruled her council would soon grip her, too.

-

Sealing the Maw was the only way to stop this terror, of that much Svana was certain. She knew some magic history, but lacked the practical talent that many of her blood had had. This would not be the way she could help, but then, what use was she? What could she do that perhaps the people here had neglected? She doubted they had not put their mind to this problem in the year since it had started.

Since sitting alone in her room turning the problem in their head would hardly be the solution, Svana decided to start at last where she knew few of her warlike subjects would have chosen to look. It was, of course, perhaps for a good reason, she thought to herself, as she descended the narrow stairs that led from her chambers down into the archives. What battle strategies could she find among heaps of old paper? Yet, her time was running out. By the day after tomorrow, she needed an idea, and though she’d spent day and night listening to every plan anyone wanted to bring before her, they had not yet come up with anything that had a real goal in mind, some success that was not just stemming the tide of demons for a little while.

She set the lantern down in the middle of a table. The room was small and cramped, filled with scrolls and books caked in thick layers of grey. The air was so dry it tickled her nose and hurt her throat.

Slowly, she walked along the shelves, blew dust off the tomes, opened them to check their contents. Most of them were tales of the gods. If only those were on Sveland’s side right now. Would she find a prayer here to help them? In her experience, most gods needed more than that to be swayed to assist someone, especially among her people. No god of these lands helped an idle hand.

As she turned to the shelf closest by the stairs, she saw a book that had plainly been handled lately. The leather cover was embossed with gemstones and gold and as she pulled it out and opened it, the title was written in looping black ink: _The Line of the Blood of Gunvald the Brightspear_.

Well, it was Gunvald who had started it all. Maybe he had an answer on how to end it?

She sat down at the table with her book. As she’d feared, however, there was no great revelation, just a family tree that stretched pages upon pages. She leafed slowly forward, anyway, letting barely-remembered names pass her by, each coupled with a paragraph of text detailing their reign. As she came towards the middle of the book, the people became more familiar. Her grandmother had been a queen known for her interest in seafaring and had discovered several islands far off the coast. Her mother had fought the war against Avergnon and turned what had seemed like a sure loss into a bitter truce.

Perhaps it was the late hour or her tired head, but when she turned the next page, she found it struck her like a blow to see that where all her ancestors had had one page or two dedicated to them, all her three siblings shared the same one. Her sisters’ reigns were summarised in two or three sentences each; her brother had one, soberly telling the date of his ascension to the throne, mentioning his campaign to the Icey Ridges, and his death there by the axe of a demon, again with a date.

None of this was news to her; she had read about the rule and death of her siblings in agonisingly slow detail through letters sent from home. Yet as she saw how they would be remembered – footnotes in history at best –, she suddenly felt hot tears push up her throat and run down her face.

For a moment, she was angry. Had she not cried enough? What would it help? But then, what did anything she was doing help? She wanted nothing more than to take them in her arms again and even if she somehow shut the Maw, they would not come back.

She pushed the book away and laid her head on her folded arms, sobbing like a child. The way things stood, she could not even save their memory now.

A hand touched her shoulder. Svana winced as she looked up. Sataq stood behind her, watching her carefully. Yet again, she had not heard his approach. Deciding that it would look even more pitiful to try to hide her tears, she simply wiped them away and cleared her throat.

“You walk like a shadow,” she said.

“That’s why they call us Dust Walkers. I’m surprised you did not hear _their_ trampling, though.”

He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. In the narrow way of the staircase stood Valka and Khedr.

“I was busy mourning the dead again, not that it does them much good.” Svana gathered the book up in her arms as she stood, almost like a shield, facing her spouses. She was still crying, but she managed to steady her voice. “You must have come for a reason?”

“I figured we were not doing our duty as your harem,” Valka said, shifting, awkwardly searching for somewhere to look that was not Svana’s tear-stained face. “I fetched Khedr and Sataq, but... it’s a bad time.”

“We didn’t mean to disturb you,” Sataq said.

There was judgement in none of their faces. Perhaps she had thought of them, of all her people as a little more harsh than they truly were, fearing how much she would not fit in, Svana contemplated. None of them were likely to be strangers to loss and they were all human, after all.

“It’ll be better for me not to sit here alone, at the very least,” Svana decided after a moment and managed a jovial smile as she grabbed her lantern, too. “I suppose none of you brought wine?”

“I’ll get on it,” Valka said hastily, turning on the stairs.

Svana did not point out that she had been joking. She really did want a drink.

Her husbands brought her back to her chambers and she led them into the hall before the bedroom, where there were pillows and furs on the ground. She put her lantern and book down beside her as she sat. The hearth fire illuminated room and Khedr fed it some more wood, then seemed to look for some other way to make Svana comfortable and ended up fidgeting uselessly until Sataq told him to sit down by his side. He had already taken up a spot by Svana, positioned at a respectful distance, but letting his knee lean against hers, as they both sat cross-legged. Valka returned with four cups and couple of bottles just when Svana had swallowed the last of her tears.

“It’s not good. I think we drank all of the decent stuff half a year ago,” Valka said as she filled their cups. “Still, it should do the job.”

Svana grabbed a cup and turned it in her hand.

“To the dead,” she said, as she lifted it.

The others repeated her words. Svana downed half a cup full of the sour wine and leaned back into the pillow, allowing her leg to press more insistently against Sataq’s.

“You know,” she said, looking at them, “you can all guess who I’m crying about, but what about your families? Your friends? I know so little about you. Who have you lost?”

Valka shrugged her shoulders. “I was lucky,” she said. “My family’s hall is at the coast. The demons haven’t come there yet. My parents are too old to be anything but the last reserve and I never had siblings.” She showed her teeth. “I lost most of my best friends in the battles, though. Good mages I didn’t know so well, too.” She huffed and put the cup down too loudly. “Shit, it’s been a long year.”

“It is the same for me. Men and women I’ve fought alongside for decades have fallen like flies,” Khedr added and, after hesitating, spoke into his cup: “My father, too. He was almost sixty, but he was still a warrior worthy of the title. The demons drowned him in the River Khel.”

They turned to Sataq, who shrugged.

“My family was already dead. I suppose I was lucky,” he said with an irreverent smile. “But when I came up from the steppes as a boy to join the Dust Walkers, Tasakh became the home I never felt I had before. Now it is dying a slow death, already barely more than a garrison. You should have seen it a couple of years ago, Svana. It was magnificent.”

Valka and Khedr nodded their heads. There was something in all their faces, a melancholy that tugged Svana’s heart like a rope. It occurred to her, suddenly, that she wanted to get to know these people. They could not, of course, love each other after barely a fortnight, but each of them seemed to carry a good head and heart. It was a better beginning than many got in this sort of circumstance and perhaps she would have no chance to make use of it.

“I don’t know the people you lost. I have no idea what the city looked like before the war. I suspect you even knew my siblings better than me,” she said slowly. “But I promise, if I can in any way, I will seek revenge.”

“Hail to the queen!” Valka shouted, so loud that Svana jumped and then laughed. Khedr and Sataq joined in. There was really no reason to laugh other than maybe that they all hadn’t in much too long. Svana emptied her cup and grabbed the bottle to fill it again.

“Why were you in the archives?” Sataq asked, swirling the wine in his cup with a motion of his wrist.

“I don’t really know,” Svana admitted. “I thought maybe if I could find a story of how the seal was first made, I might figure out how to repeat the process. But considering how much better you all probably know it than I do, it was rather futile.”

“You won’t find that tale down there. Those kinds of stories are usually passed down from one to another by speech or song,” Khedr said.

“Tell it, then,” Sataq said grinning. “We know you have all versions memorised.”

Khedr frowned, looking suddenly bashful.

“You all know it. One of you do it,” he grumbled.

“Don’t be shy now! Khedr regularly keeps whole troops entertained around the camp fire!” Valka told Svana. “I guess he’s usually had a bit more wine by then, though.”

Valka reached for the bottle to refill Khedr’s cup.

“Or is it the pretty queen? Don’t want to tell old wife’s tales in front of her?” Sataq mocked.

“Alright!” Khedr snapped, as Valka broke down in giggles. “I’ll do it.”

After taking another sip from his newly filled cup, Khedr drew himself up. Svana could not but smile as his face grew stern.

“Before Sveland was called Sveland, Ingar, the father of Gunvald the Brightspear, opened a chasm into the world of demons to fight Jalgar the Grey. The demons overran Ingar’s enemies, but then they turned on the rest of the land and eventually on Ingar himself. He was killed, but his son Gunvald and his wife and husband, as well as his heirs, fought bravely. But the demons’ numbers did not lessen and people said they would eventually flood the whole world. Gunvald thought long on what to do and then asked the wife of his oldest son Darwulf, who became king after him. She was a powerful sorceress and with her help, Gunvald drew up a seal and closed the Maw – forever, as it used to be said,” he muttered, his sonorous voice faltering some.

“What was the wife’s name?” Valka asked. “I always wondered about her.”

“I’m not sure,” Khedr said, looking at Sataq, who also gave a shrug.

“Perhaps we can find out. This might be good for something, after all.”

Svana lifted the tome into her lap and flipped through to the first pages. Valka glanced over her shoulder, but made a noise of disappointment when Svana had reached Darwulf’s entry.

“This Darwulf had six wives. I guess we could choose one by pointing a finger with our eyes closed,” she said.

Svana nodded her head, letting her eyes run over the names. The wives were listed as Mette, Yasai, Ragndid, Hajija, Asunn, and Constanza.

“Constanza?” Svana asked out loud. “Isn’t that Castellánian name?”

Castellá was the country to the east of Avergnon, close to it in religion and culture. Avergnon had been in friendly contact with them for the last hundred years, with lots of intermarriage between noble families, but Sveland had little contact with them.

Sataq was now sitting over her other shoulder, with Khedr moving closer to see the book laid out over her legs as well.

“It says here that Darwulf travelled before he joined his father’s war against the demons,” Sataq said, pointing at the paragraph that described Darwulf’s reign. “Apparently, he brought back more than just stories.”

“The people from Castellá closely guard the secrets of their magic,” Svana said thoughtfully. “I’ve seen a lot of their arts at the court of Ruanne, though. It’s disquieting, but I cannot lie that they perform wonders. It _could_ have been her. It would explain how such an important detail of the story was lost. Maybe people around here did not understand the spell she used, or she was close-lipped about it?”

“I’m afraid us Dust Walkers concentrate on our own spells. What makes magic in Castellá different?” Sataq asked.

“They’re blood mages,” Valka answered in Svana’s stead. “Creeps me out, but it’s pretty effective. I’ve a lockbox my aunt brought me from Castellá when I was child. She always liked to travel, too.” Valka shook her head. “Their magic works almost like an automaton, it’s so precise.” She made the shape of a square with her hands. “The box has six little stones as anchors. You charge them by priming them with your blood and a magic surge and the thing is locked until all ages, unless you prick your finger and spill a little more of your blood on one of the stones. It can only be your blood, though, the one who first primed the anchors. Anyone else can bleed out over it and it won’t do anything. It can also be opened with some few powerful disspells, but even if the spell is broken, you can always lock it again with your blood and some magic. The spell doesn’t wear off. No idea how they make it last like that.”

“You think Gunvald may have used blood magic? That would be quite the shock to most of our honourable warriors,” Sataq asked Valka with his brows raised high.

“Khedr? Are you alright?”

Svana looked across from her at Khedr. He had suddenly grown very still and pale. All heads turned to him now as Svana stared.

“These... stones,” Khedr asked slowly. “What would they look like?”

“Spell anchors?” Valka asked. “I don’t know, it can be anything. Ours aren’t that different. Usually, you’d want it to stand out, of course, unless you’re trying to hide your spell. On a box it’ll be a gem, in a landscape it’d be a big tree or something. Why?”

“No, this is nothing,” Khedr said after a long moment of silence. “You said this spell is bound to the blood of a specific person, right? Not a family?”

“That’s definitely possible. The nobles of Castellá use it all the time to lock away their family’s valuables,” Svana said. Her head was swimming from the wine and she did not quite grasp what Khedr was getting at, but her stomach turned uncomfortably when she watched his face twist in sudden despair. Khedr cursed in a dialect that Svana was not familiar with. She could imagine the words nevertheless.

“I think it’s time to tell another story,” Sataq said, alarmed, pinning Khedr with his gaze.

Sitting his cup down, Khedr needed a moment to get his voice under control.

“A year ago, I was in the foothills with Queen Birsa and a few other warriors, not too far from the Maw, though it was closed then. We were waiting for the scouts to report back from the Long Pass, but the weather had slowed them down. Since it was raining and the wind was sharp, we sparred to keep ourselves warm. I faced off again the queen, but she slipped in the mud on a turn and only managed to stop my blade with her arm. As I was digging through my saddle bags for bandages, she leaned against this stone – I remember because it was oddly shaped and had traces of paint on it, as if it used to be a statue at some point, before the weather and the years had worn it down. Her blood got on it.” He swallowed. “That night, we saw of the first demons at the walls.”

They were all silent for a long moment as the story sank in.

“Well, congratulations, General Khedr. You opened the Maw,” Sataq said, finally.

Khedr threw him a wild gaze. “We had no idea!”

“Of course not,” Sataq said, running both hands through his hair. “Gods be damned!”

“Oh, _fuck me_! That’s what it means,” Svana burst out.

Her sudden profanity shook her harem. The bickering stopped as they turned to her.

“What do you mean?” Valka asked.

“‘When the Brightspear falls, so does the Land.’ Gunvald knew that if anyone managed to weaken or break the seal when his line had already failed, the Maw couldn’t be sealed again because the spell was tied to his bloodline.” Svana let her head fall back so hard it knocked against the wall, but immediately sat up straight again, pointing her finger at Khedr. “Can you find that statue again?”

“Yes,” Khedr said immediately.

She jumped to her feet, pushing the book to the ground, her heart ready to burst out of her ribcage. It wasn’t much to go on – maybe they were chasing ghosts –, but it was the best lead anyone had had in a year. It was hope.

“The line of Gunvald isn’t finished yet,” she said. “I am still here. Valka, find whatever mages you can, it’s your magic that is going to carry this. Khedr, Sataq, ready your people.” She balled her fists. “The Elders are going to get their charge into the demon horde. We’re making for the broken spell anchor.”

-

One thing helped her more than anything to mobilise her troops before dawn even glimpsed over the horizon: she was not the only one who had desperately waited for something resembling a plan. She doubted the Elders were wholly convinced, even as Svana, Khedr, Valka and Sataq dragged them out of their beds, but the notion of a fight with a purpose ran through them and the warriors that they called together like wildfire through dry woods.

Svana attempted to sleep a few hours in the grey morning as the warriors prepared the horses and their equipment, but the undeniable current of fight and fear now coursed through her veins and she barely closed her eyes. Eventually, she gave up and instead found herself a servant to help her into her sister Geira’s armour so she could walk the battlements. Inside a courtyard, she saw Valka talking intently to a small group wearing breastplates painted with bright runes and pendants made of colourful stones and feathers. Khedr’s warriors were gathering before the castle, filling the streets around it. Sataq stopped Svana in a hallway, flanked by several men and women dressed head to toe in cloth died black and grey, hoods deep in their faces.

“Khedr’s warriors will break the way open for you and Valka. We’ll make sure that the demons won’t have a chance to get you from the back – if you’re alright with that.”

Svana nodded her head and Sataq smiled.

“Thank you for the chance. We would like to prove that we’re a part of the armies of Sveland again.”

“We’ll need every fighter out there. It’s not just a gesture,” Svana reminded him.

“Of course.” He lowered his head. “The armour suits you, if I may say so.”

“And you look quite impressive, if a bit like a paid knife,” she gave back with a slim smile, lowering her voice as she gripped the hilt of the sword at her belt. “I’ve only ever fought in tourneys, but all I need to do is bring my blood over to that stone. Let’s hope I can manage it.”

“You will.”

Svana nodded and then embraced Sataq. The comradery of the gesture was shifted by Sataq catching her as she pulled away and pressing a kiss on her lips.

“I will see you on the other side,” he said.

Down in the courtyard, Svana went into the stables to find a horse and spotted, close by the door, the palomino mare that Khedr had picked out for her when she had asked him to ride into the city with him. Choosing to consider it a lucky sign, she asked a nervous-looking stable girl to prepare the horse for her and rode out into the courtyard towards Valka and who she suspected to be the spearhead of mages who would follow them, already seated on their steeds as well.

“Svana!” Valka called as she spotted her. “Everything’s ready and the sun is almost up. We’re waiting for your sign.”

“Consider this it.”

Svana closed ranks with her and Valka leaned over to put her arm around her shoulders and gently knock their foreheads together.

“This hinges on us not fucking up! They’re counting us! Let’s end this war today!” she shouted, turning to her mages, who responded with a chorus of triumphant howls.

Svana rode out of the castle doors by Valka’s side. Khedr bowed before them as he saw them and then swung up into the saddle, shouting at his troops to do the same. As they rode through the city, Svana saw bandaged, bruised men and women and healer mages in white robes looking out of the houses, and noticed glancing back that behind them the servants and Elders had gathered in the entrance of the castle. In the interest of not fainting out of her saddle, she tried to push away the thought that this probably was the last real opportunity they would get. After another crushing defeat, there would simply not be enough warriors left.

Before the northward city gate, Khedr stopped them and began to organise the troops. The greatest part of the warriors would ride behind and fall back as Khedr, Svana, and Valka pushed on, to distract the demons at the city walls. Some were ordered to flank Svana and the mages to the left and right to protect them from attacks. In the front was Khedr with several heavily armed warriors to push through the crowd of demons right outside the gate.

Despite the clamour outside the walls, Svana could hear her pulse in her ears as they waited for the gate to be drawn. It finally moved, with a great rattle and creak of iron chains.

Khedr gave the command to charge and Svana pressed her heels into her horse’s sides and then everybody was in motion.

They drove into the horde of demons like an arrowhead. The demons roared around them, but the wall of warriors and mages to both sides of her shielded her from seeing more than flashes of them. It did not take long for their protection to be peeled off, however. More and more warriors broke away on the flanks, taken down by demons or being dragged into skirmishes. However, though their formation spread out, the herd of demons thinned after the greatest press by the castle walls. Around her, mages threw crackling thunder from their hands and Valka swung a sword that burned hilt to tip at the scattered demons underfoot. Khedr used an axe to mow down any that stood in his way, swinging it low, somehow still staying in the saddle as he hung always sideways on his horse. Svana, meanwhile, clung to the neck of her mare, just glad not to have ended up under her hooves yet as she followed the charge towards the foothills.

Suddenly, Khedr called out something that Svana could not understand over the rush of wind in her ears. As she looked up, however, she saw Khedr had corrected his course to race towards a stone in the distance, a statue beaten faceless, with smears of faded colour on it.

Svana turned to call to Valka, but that was when a chorus of screams sounded from her left. She whipped her head around and stared in abject horror. The Maw had spewed a new crowd of demons, like an animal realising it had to protect its nest, which poured out of the hole and into her army’s side. In a moment, she had lost sight of Khedr behind a crimson-coloured, wolf-like thing the size of a bull. Valka turned sharply, swinging her burning sword at two demon soldiers racing towards them, cutting through one’s throat.

_They’re buying you time._

Despite her lacking experience, Svana wanted to help somehow as she saw mages and warriors pulled out of their saddles, struggling for their lives, but she knew that the best she could do was not to lose sight of the anchor. Driving her horse forward, she turned away from the ambush, racing ahead.

Suddenly, the world slanted and then she crashed, her screaming horse landing on top of her. She saw a gush of blood spilling from claw marks at the mare’s side, and a demon charging on all fours after them.

With all her strength, Svana freed her leg out of the stirrup and from under the thrashing animal. _Onward._ She could not stop to check for the poor horse, especially as the demon that had felled it was coming closer. She stumbled, pulling her sword out as she limped over the uneven ground, the leg the horse had fallen on stiff.

The demon landed on her back, taking her down. Its claws ripped open her arm, but failed to pierce her leather armour. She turned, stabbing wildly behind her, and on the third slash her sword went deep between the ribs, leaving the demon gurgling. The blade, however, was now stuck within him.

Again, Svana dragged herself up to her feet, abandoning her weapon. She wouldn’t need it – she was already wounded. With sweat dripping into her eyes and the clash and screams of the fight all around her, she clambered up a steep incline, her eyes locked on the anchor. One more step, one more, and she collapsed against its side, dragging her bleeding arm across its surface.

There was a flurry of motion to her side. Valka, followed by two others in colourful armour, had broken out of the struggle, and Khedr was hacking away at a demon that was trying to hold on to Valka’s horse. Svana stumbled out of the way of her galloping, blood-smeared steed, which Valka could just get to stop by the stone, almost being flung out of the saddle.

“Go!” Svana called. “That’s my blood on the stone-”

Her sentence ended in a voiceless gasp. Something blunt hit her in the back, sending her into the dirt yet again. The weight pressed the air out of her lungs, but then, suddenly, it sagged off of her with a whimper. Warm blood ran down over her shoulders and under her collar, but it was not her own. As she struggled to stand, something grabbed her by the scruff of her leather armour and tore her upwards. She only saw a horse, part of a human arm, and decided not to fight. Only when she sat in front of the person did she realise it was Khedr.

“Protect the mages!” he roared over the din of the battle.

Those of his men and women who were still on horses, or at least standing on their feet, charged to form a circle around the anchor. Through the crowd of bodies, Svana saw Valka pressing both of her hands against the stone, then the ranks closed and Khedr’s horse shied away from a hulking demon and Svana did not see her anymore.

A red lightning strike hit where she knew the statue would be, even though the sky above was blue and clear. A shimmer like sun on water ran across the ground and trickled into the open Maw. The earth underneath creaked and shuddered, as if something deep down had moved. A few more demons struggled of the Maw, stumbling and uncoordinated like they were being chased, but then the stream suddenly stopped.

Svana felt like screaming for joy, but that was when it dawned on her that they were still here, still surrounded by demons who were very much alive and now raising an unholy scream of rage. Apparently, for how mindless they seemed, they had noticed the way back had been shut up, and they were closing in on them now.

“Let me get off! Save the mages, but I need to get away from the stone!” Svana called. “I cannot die near it! The Maw might spring right open again!”

Khedr swung his axe, separating the arm of a smaller demon halfway from its shoulder, kicking it away from his horse.

“I couldn’t even get through anymore!” he shouted into her ear.

He was not wrong, Svana realised with a shudder. The circle of warriors had in turn been beset by the remaining demons. There were still some left aiming for Khedr and her, too, and even with his quick hand, he would not be able to fight all of them. There were simply not enough bodies on their side anymore. None of them were going to get out of here, not alive.

An arrow whizzed just a foot over her head and imbedded itself in the chest of a tall demon with a club. It was the forerunner of a whole shower of them suddenly falling over the battlefield. Out of the surrounding woods, black figures melted from the shadows, some racing across the field with curved knives in hand, others staying at the perimeters with their bows, raining death down on the demons.

There was a sudden flare of fire from the direction of the anchor. With the demons distracted, the mages were breaking through, assisted by bloodied warriors. Valka walked at the front, the sword in her hand all but a ball of flame with a shimmer of a blade inside. She was covered in the grey-tinted blood of the demons head to toe, but grinning widely.

“Excuse me. We were held up by the city walls.” Sataq stood by Khedr’s foot and looked up at him. “We saw a flash over there. Did you...”

“The Maw is closed,” Khedr said.

Sataq smiled and pulled another arrow from the quiver on his back.

“Then let us finish up here and get home.”

-

It was not a victory without victims. As they rode back to the city, the bodies of her warriors laid among the corpses of the demons and the horses. Perhaps there would finally be proper burials for them, though.

Svana was struck by how quiet it was. Whenever she had stepped foot outside the castle walls, there had been the distant noise of the demons outside the city. She could hear birds in the trees now, the hooves of the remaining horses, the murmur of talk between the survivors. As the tension bled out of her, she also became aware of the shattered bones in her leg, the bruises, the bleeding wounds. Someone had brought her one of the many riderless horses, as sitting with another was considering childish and beneath a queen, but she wished she’d be with one of her spouses so they could at least prop her up like a doll. None of them had earned more than bruises and cuts, from what she could see, and she thanked the gods for that.

The city gates were opened slowly, as if the people inside feared they might be a mirage, a trick the demons played. For a year, they couldn’t have done this without letting in a stream of enemies if they hadn’t positioned their own army at the other side, so she did not begrudge them their hesitance.

The Elders waited by the gate. From the dust on their robes and in their hair, Svana though they had probably stood here or on the battlements the whole time, even those like Batu who could barely hold herself up with a cane.

“It is done,” she told them. “The warriors fought bravely and the mages sealed the breach with my blood.”

Mida Qara smiled at her as Thorfinna let out a deep sigh and pressed her hands against her temples. Suba nodded her head. As Svana looked down at them from a horse that could have shaken her off with a sprightly sideways step, mostly held up by the high saddle alone, she nonetheless felt a little like a queen for the first time.

-

“Careful.”

“I’m not going to drop her, Khedr.”

From where she rested in Valka’s arms, Svana saw Valka rolling her eyes at Khedr, who stalked behind them, his brow furrowed. Sataq lead the way, opening doors for them. They had almost reached her chambers now.

“I wish the healers hadn’t given me so much of that crushed valerian. I should speak to the Elders,” Svana muttered, hearing herself slurring words.

“You should sleep,” Valka countered. “The Elders aren’t going to run away, are they? Besides, everyone is either with the healers now or looking for wounded. It’ll be a few hours before we can even gather the troop leaders.”

Svana considered arguing, but was in truth too exhausted for that. Healing magic was a powerful tool that she was intensely grateful for right now. However, it sped up the body’s own processes and so fed on energy that would usually have been spent over weeks, maybe months. She would have to go back to the healers again several times before the broken bones in her leg and ribcage would be fully put together, and the claw marks on her arm would likely turn into scars regardless.

Valka laid Svana out on her bed. Svana had gotten a quick, cold bath at the healing houses and had been wrangled into a wide tunic and trousers and was now very happy that this meant she wouldn’t have to get up to change.

“Gods, I could fall asleep, too,” Valka said, sinking down on the edge of the bed.

“Why don’t you?” Svana asked. “You said yourself there will be little to do until everyone has seen the healers and gotten treated.”

“That’s true.”

She flung herself down next to Svana, stretching out her long limbs.

Sataq and Khedr seemed to think the same, for they sat at her other side. Khedr leaned against the painted wall, grunting when Sataq climbed over him into the small space left between Svana and Khedr’s body.

“Dust Walker...”

“None of that anymore. The Dust Walkers saved your hide today, general.” Sataq leaned provocatively into Khedr’s side, bringing their faces close together as he put a hand on Khedr’s thigh. “Perhaps we can start our relationship anew, why don’t we? We both know you didn’t just take women warriors behind the tents back in the day, when you still knew what fun was.”

“Yes. Give us a show, boys!” Valka hollered, rolling on her side, her arm wrapped over Svana’s stomach. Svana snorted and then gave a quite, encouraging whistle.

Though Khedr did his best to summon a scowl, even he could not quite hide the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“You better know what you’re asking for,” he told Sataq. “Those people I was with were warriors. I’m not falling for any of your charming little tricks.”

“Ah, I’m charming, am I?”

“And not at all arrogant,” Valka threw in, grinning.

Her harem kept talking and bickering and laughing as Svana’s eyes fell shut. Perhaps, when the artisans returned to town, she would have a bigger bed made.

\---

“They are just going to have to live with the hair,” Svana said, as she brushed through the strands with her comb. She had had a servant in her room to cut her hair and now it reached just to her ears again. “I like it short.”

“I think you’ll have to do worse than that for the Elders to call for your head now.”

Grinning, Valka leaned in the doorway. She always complained how long Svana took to get ready, but never went ahead, either, no matter how often Svana pointed that option out. After three months in Tasakh, Svana had learned to style the clothes that had been so unusual for her, worked in the bead-chain charms and metal brooches like jewellery, and found someone to make her leather armour with beautiful stitching. The trousers were still a little unusual, but now that the weather grew colder, she actually appreciated them.

Svana set the comb aside. She still felt like the newcomer, and she was, but Valka was correct. That she had closed the Maw had bought her goodwill, and she had used it carefully to turn herself from a princess pushed around by the greater wills of other forces into a ruler.

“Where are Khedr and Sataq?”

“Already by the hall, I’m guessing. Come on, we should go, too. Your hair looks fine already! You’re always beautiful.”

With a sly smile, Svana took an extra moment before the polished place of iron to check the seat of her clothes before she finally turned to Valka and deigned to follow her out of the door. Valka pulled one of Svana’s strands of hair askew with a roll of her eyes.

Khedr and Sataq waited before the doors of the great hall. You could catch them in quiet, calm conversation sometimes these days, and Svana was almost sorry to break it up because the sight was still quite new. However, she was hungry after a morning of inspecting the repairs to the city walls.

As always on the high feast days, when the Elders and all members of her court ate supper in the great hall, she saw everyone sitting at their tables before empty plates, waiting for her. Svana strode down the middle way through the hall. Her harem followed, walking fanned out behind her between the tables, and knelt before the dais as Svana ascended it. She seated herself in the throne before which a table had been set, but hesitated to wave them up, briefly regarding them.

She could have started choosing more members of her harem now – three were a rather paltry number. However, she had grown very fond of them and she suspected they of her and each other, too. There was currently no reason to add more chaos, especially now that she had noticed that her monthly blood had not flowed and there was perhaps to be an addition of a different sort to her family soon. Maybe she was not to be the very last of the line of Gunvald, after all, though the first thing she had done when she could get up from the sickbed after the fight was to set her mages to work to find a solution to seal the Maw that did not rely on her family’s blood.

Smiling, she finally moved her hand and the three of them stood and seated themselves on the chairs by her sides as servants started to carry in the food. The farmlands had not been hit quite as badly, so now that the city gates were open and the merchants had returned, they ate much better than before. Skewered meat prepared with wild onions and herbs, several types of cheeses, dried fruits and nuts were served alongside fresh milk and thick brown ale.

“I found kittens!”

A small figure darted up the dais and under the table, emerging between Sataq and Khedr and almost knocking the cup out of the latter’s hand. Khedr sent Myndill a stern gaze before he dragged him up to sit him on his thigh.

Myndill had the wild hair and temperament of his mother. He looked out of breath.

“The kitchen cat had babies.”

“Don’t touch them yet, or the mother might smack you,” Sataq said.

“Why were you in the kitchen? Weren’t you supposed to be with your tutor until supper?” Khedr asked.

Myndill pulled a face. “Yeah,” he said, drawing the word out. “He’s pretty slow, you know. He can’t really catch me.”

Valka just grinned, which earned her a disapproving gaze from Khedr.

“It’s a high feast day,” Svana said. “Let’s let him have supper with us before we send him back.” She glanced at Myndill with a smile. “But if you don’t stay, I’m going to tell Sataq to teach your tutor how to step out of the shadows in every corner and ask you for your letters.”

“You can’t do that!” Myndill claimed, looking wide-eyed at Sataq.

“Oh, I can do more than that.”

While Sataq spun a fairytale, Svana grabbed an empty plate to pile on food for Myndill. Valka’s son was not the only child that had returned to Tasakh. There were also old people now, or ones who had always been too weak to fight, or who simply had other talents than swinging a blade or throwing a spell. When it was not in the middle of the war, Tasakh was a town as bright and lively as any she had known. The people she had once wished to see it with had not been able to welcome her again, even as their stone statues were now raised in the gallery of the ancients. However, as she looked at those seated at her table, she felt certain that this was her home.


End file.
